Daniel Abraham - THE

"The boy?"

"No. The one he's named for," Idaan said. She heaved a great sigh. "But

back to the matter at hand, eh? I understand how hard and confusing it

is to love someone you hate. I really do. And if you call me his toady

again, I swear by all the gods there ever were, I'll disjoint your

fingers. Understood?"

"I didn't mean for it to happen like this," Maati said. "I wanted to

heal the world, not ... not this."

"Plans go awry," Idaan said. "It's their nature. I'm going back in. Join

us when you're ready. I'll get something warm for you to drink."

Maati sat alone, growing colder. Behind him, the wayhouse ticked as the

day's heat radiated away. An owl gave its low coo to the world, and the

darkness around him seemed to lessen. He could make out the paving

stones, the outline of the stable, the high branches rising toward the

stars like thin fingers. Maati rested his head against the wall and let

his eyes close.

The trembling had stopped. The anger was less immediate, chagrin slowly

taking its place. He heard Eiah's calm voice, as solid as stone, from

within. He should be with her. He should be at her side. She shouldn't

have to face them by herself. He rose, grunting, and lumbered inside,

his knees aching.

Otah was sitting in a low wooden chair, his fingers pressed to his lips

in thought. He glanced up as Maati stepped into the room but made no

other acknowledgment. Eiah, speaking, gestured to the space between Otah

and Danat. Her voice had neither rancor nor apology, and Maati was

reminded again why he admired her.

"Yes," she said, "the andat outplayed us. From the beginning with Ashti

Beg to the end with me, we wanted to think of it as a baby. We all knew

it wasn't. We all understand perfectly well that it was some part of

Vanjit's mind made flesh, but ..."

She raised her hands, palms out. Not a formal pose, but the gesture was

eloquent enough.

"So what does it want?" Danat said. "If it truly wants Vanjit killed,

why didn't it help you? That would have done all it wanted to do."

"It may want more than freedom," Idaan said, speaking over her shoulder

as she pressed a warm bowl into Maati's hand. "There's precedent.

Seedless wanted his freedom, but he also wanted his poet to suffer.

Clarity-of-Sight may want something for Vanjit besides death."

"Such as?" Large Kae asked.

"Punishment," Eiah suggested. "Or isolation. Or. .."

"Or a sense of family," Ashti Beg said, her voice oddly contemplative.

"If we think of the babe as having more than one agenda, this could be

its way of making a world that was only mother and child. Alienating all

the rest of us."

"But it also wants its freedom," Maati said. Small Kae shifted on her

bench at the sound of his voice, making room for him. He moved forward

and sat. "Whatever else it wants, it must want that."

A puff of smoke escaped from the fire grate. Maati sipped the drink

Idaan had given him-rum with honey and apple. It warmed his throat and

made his chest glow.

"Is this really what we should care about?" the Galtic girl-Anaasked. "I

don't mean that as an attack, but it seems that we've estab lished that

the girl's less than sane. Is there something we gain by trying to guess

at the shape of her madness?"

"We might have a better idea of where she's gone," Small Kae offered.

"What she might do next?"

"Ana's right," Danat said. "We could roll dice about it, but there are

some things we know for certain. She set out half a day's boat ride

north of here a night ago. If she goes upriver, she'll need to hire a

boat. If she goes down, she could hire one or build a raft and rely on

the current. Or she can go east over land. What about the low towns?

Could she have found shelter in a low town?"

The group was silent, then Danat said, "I'll get the keeper. She may

know something of the local geography."

It was, Maati thought, a strangely familiar feeling. A handful of people

sitting together, thinking aloud about an insoluble problem. The weeks

at the school, sitting in the classrooms with chalk marks on the walls.

All of them offering suggestion, interpretation, questions opened for

anyone to answer if they could. He took an unexpected comfort from it.

The only one who didn't speak was Otah.

The conversation went on long into the night. The longer they took to

find Vanjit, the greater her chance of escape. The greater her chance of

dying alone in the wild. The Galtic girl and Small Kae had a long

discussion of whether they were going to rescue Vanjit or if the aim was

to kill her; Small Kae advocated a fast death, Ana wanted the chance to

ask Vanjit to undo the damage to Galt. Danat counted the days to Utani,

the days back, guessed at the size of the search party that could be raised.

"There is another option," Eiah said, her pearl-gray eyes focused on

nothing. "I had a binding prepared. Wounded. If I can manage it, we

would have another way to heal the damage done to Galt."

Ana turned toward Eiah's voice, raw hope on her face. Maati almost felt

sorry to dash it.

"No," he said. "It can't be done. Even if you knew it well enough to

perform it blind, we hadn't looked over the most recent version. And

Vanjit ruined the notes."

"But if Galt could be given its eyes again . . ." Danat said.

"Vanjit could take them away again," Maati said. "Clarity-of-Sight and

Wounded could go back and forth until eventually Eiah tried to heal

someone just as Vanjit tried to blind them, and then the gods alone know

what would happen. And that matters less than the fact that Eiah would

die if she tried the thing."

"You don't know that," Idaan said.

"I'm not willing to take the risk," Maati said.

Otah listened, his brow furrowed, his gaze shifting now and again to the

fire. It wasn't until morning that Maati and the others learned what the

Emperor was thinking.

The morning light transformed the wayhouse. With the shutters all

opened, the benches and tables and soot-stained walls seemed less

oppressive. The fire still smoked, but the breeze moving through the

rooms kept the air fresh and clear, if cold. The wayhouse keeper had

prepared duck eggs and peppered pork for their morning meal, and tea

brewed until it was rich with taste and not yet bitter.

They were not all there. Ashti Beg and the two Kaes had stayed up after

many of the others had faded into their restless sleep. Maati had

slipped into dream with the sound of their voices in his ears, and none

of them had yet risen. Danat and Otah were sitting at the same table,

looking like a painter's metaphor of youth and age. Eiah and Idaan

shared his own table, and he did not know where the Galtic girl had gone.

"She didn't blind Maati. Why?" Otah asked, gesturing at Maati as if he

were an exhibit at an audience rather than a person. "Why spare him and

not the others?"

"Well, for Eiah it's clear enough," Danat said around a mouthful of

pork. "She didn't want another poet binding the andat. As long as

Vanjit's the only one, she's ... well, the only one."

"And the two Kaes," Eiah said, "so that they couldn't follow her."

"Yes," Idaan said, "but that's not the question. 117hy notMaati?"

"Because . . ." Maati began, and then fell short. Because she cared for

him more? Because she didn't fear him? Nothing he could think of rang true.

"I think she wants to be found," Otah said. "I think she wants to be

found, in specific, by Maati."